


Doghouse

by soapy_soap



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018), Orange is the New Black
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Killing Eve - Freeform, Litchfield Prison, OITNB - Freeform, Orange Is The New Black - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapy_soap/pseuds/soapy_soap
Summary: Thanks for reading! I do love feedback i every form and/or shape :)





	Doghouse

Eve's palms were sweaty. She tried to wipe them off on her black pencil skirt, but they became clammy as she folded them in her lap. She was not a religious woman, never had been – but she was praying to higher power to not screw her with a chainsaw. Two doors on either side of the courtroom opened and a cold shiver went down her spine as the judge, an old man with a thick mustache and a snakelike appearance went back to his seat behind his bench. From the other door came a jury, a very serious bunch of people – tired looking.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she murmured under her breath. It was too much, the sounds of chairs scraping as the jury sat down were too loud. The court reporter's fingers hovering over her keyboard even gave a scratching sound that could drive her into madness. A pearl of sweat ran down her neck, she should have put her hair in a pony tail. Her lawyer laid a hand on her right arm and squeezed lightly, it had no relaxing effect whatsoever. The judge cleared his throat, the court fell silent, he looked down at his papers and spoke.

 “Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?” His voice was cold and stern. He probably had places to be, she guessed, cocktail party, maybe taking his wife to the movies – it was Friday after all.

“Yes, your honor,” the foreman shot a quick glance over the pitiful crowd before proceeding: “We, the jury, in the case of Eve Polastri versus Oksana Astonkova, find the defiant guilty of the charge of third degree assault.”

Eve's felt her heart implode. _Guilty._ She could hear the judge speaking, but something in her head muffled out every sound in the hall. Staring blankly at the mahogany table where her papers lay stacked, neatly.

“...court is adjourned,” a loud bang brought her back to reality as the judge slammed his gavel on wood. People left the room, but Eve couldn't move. Her lawyer gave her a minute and told her to meet him outside. There was only one thought floating in Eve's mind, everything else had blown away with the judge's hard strikes with the gavel.

_Fuck._

* * *

“Squat and cough,” a tired looking blonde in her late forties snapped a pair of blue latex gloves over her dry hands.

They were in a small, greyish room that smelled like chlorine. Eve shot her a quick glance over her shoulder, the woman raised her eyebrows tiredly. “Look Mulan, the sooner you get you ass in a scooch, the sooner we get outta here.”

Eve shook her head and bended her legs. “I'm from Connecticut,” she drawled.

“I don't care if you're the goddamn Queen of England, now cough.”

She did as she was told and felt what little pride she'd had left in her body fly away with that cough. The guard seemed pleased with her effort and told her to dress. When she reached for her clothes the woman threw an orange prison uniform on top of them. Eve started at them, then at the woman.

“Seems like you needed a new wardrobe anyway,” she said coldly and put her thumbs in her belt, “shit just got real, huh?”

She didn't bother to answer, the guard took her by the arm and led her out of the room. They walked through corridors, around corners and then came to a halt. The woman raised her hand toward her as if she was a dog.

“Stay,” she said harshly.

“O-okay,” she replied and raised her hands defensively. The woman scoffed and shook her head at her, she let her arms fall down her sides. The blonde opened the door and Eve could hear chatter inside.

“Hey, Morello. Got someone for ya, a stray,”

She tried to look over the woman's shoulder but couldn’t see anything, or anyone. Quick steps approached the door and, suddenly, a short woman with rosy cheeks, red lipstick and beautiful brown curls stuck her head between the opening.

“Oh hello, welcome to Litchfield,” she said in a shrill voice as her eyes fell upon her, “do you speak english?” She over articulated and swirled a finger in Eve's direction.

Her eyes widened at the shorter woman, she put a hand over her own chest. “I'm american.”

The brunette let out a gasp in relief, “you never know with you people, I can go pretty far with my spanish but not those weird languages you people talk,” her heavy Boston accent mixed with her chipper voice already had Eve's head pounding.

“Alright, ladies, I'll leave you to it,” the guard turned without throwing them another glance. Seconds later a large sack was shoved into her arms; which she barely caught with her knees before it hit the dirty floor.

“Let's see here...” the little woman dug inside a netted bag before putting a toothbrush and a soap in Eve's hand, “so, you have your bed stuff right here,” she pointed at the sack in her arms, “and that's your brush, ya know, for your teeth, not for stabbing,” she laughed, Eve didn't. “And here's your soap, very important to keep clean around here.”

Eve looked at her with raised eyebrows before nodding solemnly, too many thoughts rushed through her brain and she didn't have the capacity to choose one. “Um, thanks,” she murmured and put the toothbrush and soap into the sack.

“No problemo, let's get you to your room – don't worry it's only temporary,” they started walking through the corridors, every door they passed there was a new corridor and another after that. “You will probably end up in the suburbs in a while, you know, because you're practically white,” she stopped as she had turned and noticed Eve's puzzled expression. “It's a lot to swallow, I know that, but you'll be fine. Actually, there are at least two Asians here so...” she nodded enthusiastically as she spoke, “well, here we are, home sweet home.”

She turned to look inside the open door. A woman was sitting on one of the top bunks, clipping her toenails. Another sat on the floor surrounded by origami cranes, scattered all around her.

“Well, you're all set,” Morello clapped her hands together, “these two can fill you in on the details, or if I missed anything,” she pointed at the two women who hadn't even acknowledged them.

 _Details of what?_ She thought, she hadn't told her anything useful. Morello was on her way out when Eve looked down her sack and thought of something. “Hey...you didn't give me any toothpaste.”

Morello looked at her with pitiful eyes. “Oh, honey, some things you just have to figure out yourself,” she walked away and left her with the sound of paper folding and the nail clippers. She sighed, heavily, and walked over to an empty bunk.

“Occupied,” said a voice behind her, it was the woman on the floor. She proceeded to swing her sack on the top bunk when the same voice said: “also occupied.”

Eve clenched her jaw and shut her eyes. “Alright, which one is not?” She heard the women chuckle behind her. Eve turned to the woman sitting on the bed, she was pointing at the bunk underneath, the bed was full of toenails.

* * *

“Welcome to Litchfield National Bank, how may I help you today?” A perky desk clerk said without looking up from her computer. Villanelle, who had put on her most radiant smile, quickly relaxed her face to normal - she couldn't stand it when people didn't make eye contact when she had made an effort.

“I'd like to make a withdraw, just a small one,” she put a bag on the desk and pulled out a gun from her pocket, “why don't you fill up this bag for me?” She pointed the gun at the woman, who finally looked up from her computer in horror. Villanelle gave her a smile, flashing her white teeth. Even though the small bank office had been rather empty, the few people inside had started to see what was going on and panic started to erupt. “Everybody out!” She bellowed, still keeping her eyes on the woman behind the counter, “or I will blow a hole in her pretty little face,” she chewed on the inside of her cheek, excitement brewing in her stomach. Moments later the area was empty, apart from the two women. She had started to fill the bag with bundles of dollars, droplets of tears falling down on the oak desk. Villanelle jumped up the desk in a sitting position and crossed her legs. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she put the gun back in her pocket and folded her hands around her knee.

“Do you know how easy it is to buy a gun in America?” She said and the woman started to sob harder, “It's so easy, they didn't even want to check my ID. I just put the money in his hand and he gave me this, easy,” she chuckled and admired the piece, “I didn't even have to use the american accent...so easy.” She shrugged and beamed at the sobbing mess beneath her.

The woman looked up, her eyes were swollen from crying. “Are you...going to kill me?” She whimpered and Villanelle had a sudden urge to pull out the gun again.

“Just wanted to have a nice conversation, don't be rude,” Villanelle wrinkled her nose, then looked around, “when will the police be here?”

The woman started at her, “w-what?”

Villanelle exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Did you push the button? You know, the one they push in american movies – yes, that one. Go on.”

Eyes as wide as pingpong balls, fingers trembling and snot running over her lip, she reached down under the desk. Villanelle smiled widely and jumped down on the floor. She grabbed the bag and looked inside it, there were a few packs of dollars in there. “Business not going well?” She said and gave a pout, the woman shook her head and started to cry violently – it didn't suit her. Villanelle pointed the gun at her once more, it shut her right up. “Why don't you have any guards?”

“T-they said i-it wasn't high risk during l-lunch hour,” she sobbed, Villanelle threw her head back and laughed.

“Smart, that is smart,” sirens started to approach and they could hear police cars stop outside the building. Villanelle put the gun down on the floor and went for the door, she glanced over her shoulder at one last time, “thank you for your time,” she said before she walked out the door with her hands in the air.

* * *

Eve had managed to get hold of Carolyn Martens and had also been lucky enough to get her on her visitation list. Laying low her first two weeks, not talking to anyone and careful not to make any enemies – or friends, she had earned beige prison clothes and a transfer to “the suburbs”, bunking with a Chinese woman named Mei Chang. Chang never bothered her, didn't talk to her or demand anything, they existed in perfect, muted harmony. A rumour had started to spread among the inmates that Eve had cut a woman open from groin to throat, how it had started she didn't know – she didn't want to know. No one seemed to have a clue what her former profession had been, which was probably a good thing - she didn't know what they did to ex MI5 agents in prison.

“Polastri!” A bald guard yelled across the cell block. She sat up straight in her bed. “Visitation.”

She jumped to her feet and strutted quickly down the block. She nodded at the guard and he followed her out. Her heart was pounding. She didn't have much time and needed to get as much information from Carolyn as she could. She saw her through the windows as they walked toward the room. The woman had her regular strict posture, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of her. Eve slowed down as she approached Carolyn from behind, she rounded the table and their eyes met.

“Eve, so glad you could make it,” Carolyn said, calmly and quite awkwardly. Eve smiled and sat down opposite her.

“I-I can't believe you're here, when...I mean how was your trip,” she said and felt so incredibly dumb.

“Quite satisfactory, thank you,” she folded her hands in front of her. “I'm going to be frank with you, Eve, I am not happy with the way you handled things. I am, of course, to blame as well as I trusted you would follow my instructions and go back to London and let me handle...”

“Cut the bullcrap, Carolyn. You and me both know you have some dirty laundry in the bottom of your bag,” she sighed and met eyes with her former boss, “none of that matters anymore, I will lay low, do my time and then start a normal, boring life in Connecticut. Three months will pass like a fart in the wind.”

Carolyn looked worryingly at her, she licked her lips and leaned forward. “Oksana is not dead.”

Eve felt her heart stop for a second. _Not dead._ Was this a joke, did Carolyn say that just to get a reaction out of her. Would Kenny and Elena suddenly jump out with a camera yelling “PRANK” and then they would all laugh and enjoy an outdated chocolate bar from the vending machine?

“What...do you mean?” She managed to say as her throat thickened, she felt nauseous.

“That she's alive,” said Carolyn and blinked. “She was hospitalized in France, supposed to be transferred to London and handed over to authorities once her health had been restored. But she managed to, well, vanish would be the most fitting verb.”

“Oh my god, how?” She gasped, “do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“If I tell you she has vanished, it's fairly easy to comprehend that no one has absolutely no idea where she is. We have people at every corner of Europe, and here. We strongly suspect that she has gone back to Russia. That said, Eve, I want to keep you safe,” she looked around at the walls, the ceiling, and then back to her, “and honestly, I think this is the safest you'll be until this has abated.”

Eve sat back. She was disappointed, in Carolyn, but mostly in herself. Not that she had thought for one second that Carolyn would have found a way to get her out – but she hadn't even been able to kill Villanelle. She hadn't been determined enough, in fact, she had regretted it instantly. She ran a hand through her tick, dark hair. Carolyn reached out and put a cold, thin hand over hers.

“Your actions were perfectly justifiable, you acted in self-defence. Although, I wish you could have been a little more professional. And the court...”

“Well, you weren't there,” Eve cut in.

“No, I wasn't, but I heard that the flat was completely vandalized, and you came out with blood on your hands and not a single injury.”

Eve flinched, “What? No, I mean at my trial. None of you came to support me, I was all alone,” she didn't want to talk about that day, what happened before she thoughtlessly put a pocket knife inside Villanelle's belly.

“Well, there were pressing matters to attend to, and Konstantin's death...” she sighed.

“What about it? Did he die twice? I mean it's not like people didn't know what happened to him, there were like, a thousand witnesses.”

“Twenty five, actually. I went to his funeral, and had to take some time to...to mourn,” she stared out the window.

“Okay,” Eve said in a low voice. “So, you're telling me that you practically got me deported back to America, my whole life falling to pieces behind me, so you could sit there in a dark room and blow your nose with a silk hanky?”

Carolyn gave her a sharp look,“is that what you think I did?” Her voice got stern and unfeeling, and Eve knew she had crossed a line. She sighed and let her hand fall down on the table.

“I'm sorry, it just feels like I've...” she couldn't find any fitting words.

“Got a cock stuck up your arse?” Said the older woman, a surprisingly genuine smile playing on her thin lips as she watched Eve's ridiculously shocked face.

She smiled down at her hands, her fingernails were dirty and too long. “Yeah, something like that,” they sat quiet for a moment, but not before long Carolyn started to gather her jacket and purse. Eve noticed she had her phone in her hand.

“They let you bring your phone? Who are you, the Dumbledore of MI6?” She blurted out and noticed Carolyn's confused stare, “oh, I spend a lot of time at the prison library, and honestly I thought you were British enough to get that reference.”

“I read biographies,” she replied, and put her scarf around her neck, “and sometimes tabloids, but that's something I don't take pride in mentioning.”

“You never cease to amaze,” Eve smiled and got one from Carolyn in return.

“Right, I'm off. Give me a call, I'll be back in two weeks,” she had started to walk away when Eve suddenly remembered something.

“Oh! Wait!” She shouted a bit too dramatically and saw the guard straighten as he stared at her abrasively. Carolyn nodded to the guard, who relaxed right away. “Niko, I can't get a hold of him,” she felt her throat close when the older woman's concerned eyes turned, if possible, even more worrisome.

“Eve I...” she started but was interrupted by Eve's gasp as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh god, he's dead?” She couldn't believe it, she got him too. First Bill, now Niko.

“Niko is in hiding, ever since she escaped we figured she'd want to get to you – he would have made an easy target,” said Carolyn, and she was absolutely right. If Villanelle had found him, he would be dead before he could say “pierogi”.

“So, he's not answering because you gave him a new phone, or because I got him into this shit filled sink hole in the first place?” She said gloomily.

“Which one do you prefer?” The older woman raised her eyebrows and waited for her reply. Eve put her forehead against the table with a thud.

“Neither,” she groaned, “I can't believe this is happening.”

Carolyn had walked up next to her, she put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Keep your head down, Eve. You will be fine,” she heard heels click against the tile floor. When she looked up, Carolyn was gone.

* * *

For the third time that night Eve woke up to a loud snore. It came from a bunk on the other side of the hall, but loud, so loud the person might as well have been right next to her. She groaned and swung her feet over the bedside, her bladder was about to explode. She tip toed through the hall, throwing a glance to her left she noticed that the bed of the prison cook – Red, they called her, - was empty. That meant that it was almost morning and in about an hour or so the showers would be full and the cafeteria cramped. She weighed her two options and decided to cease the opportunity to wash up before breakfast. The guard inside the glass windowed room was asleep, she shook her head as she went past him.

The bathroom block was cold, and it smelled a lot more rancid than it had before. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and made her way to one of the toilet stalls. As soon as the door had shut she struggled with her pants and sat down on the toilet with a sigh of relief. 

“There's someone here, Natalya,” said a familiar voice from the next stall, Morello's voice. She bent down a little where she sat and saw a pair of boots, no, two pairs.  
  
“No, don't be stupid,” came another voice, also familiar, but she couldn't pin point where she'd heard it before. “I just love your hair, it's spectacular,” the second voice spoke again, and Eve's heart froze. She sprung to her feet, not even bothering to wipe before pulling her pants up. Carefully, she put one foot on the toilet seat and grabbed the top edge of the wall; what she saw made her loose her footing and she slipped off the toilet and landed hard on the floor. She ran out of the block and as far as her legs could carry her - an image painfully etched on her mind. She had locked eyes with the one person she thought she'd never see again, and she had smiled at her. Eve was in Litchfield prison, and so was Villanelle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I do love feedback i every form and/or shape :)


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